


Padawan Troubles

by NotebookishType



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Force Bond (Star Wars), Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), One Shot, Pining, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Teenage Anakin, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 02:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9528647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotebookishType/pseuds/NotebookishType
Summary: Obi-Wan waits up impatiently, while Anakin is out past curfew. It's not new behavior, it's a pattern. What's new, however, is Anakin making advances.





	

Obi-Wan sat silently on the couch exhaling as he tried to maintain his trance over the sounds of the local news. On a mission that was intended as political aide, it was entirely impossible to remain unbiased regarding the issues that would soon be voted on.

He opened one eye, reaching for the remote to turn off the projection, trying to ignore the chronometer flashing two pairs of digits that signified it was far past midnight. Anakin had disappeared shortly after dinner and was still gone--not a word of when he intended to return.

Obi-Wan sighed and rose from his seat, crossing the room to prepare a pot of root tea. While he waited he lit a few sticks of incense, the soft, woody scent was pleasant, relaxing. He allowed one more frustrated exhale as he poured the brewed tea into a clay cup.

He took a long sip as he sat back down on the couch, sighing inwardly as he pondered the increasing number of troubles he was experiencing with his young apprentice. They argued, he was disobedient just as often, he was less than polite, and it seemed that all the Jedi training in the galaxy couldn’t help Obi-Wan with this dilemma.

He continued to sip the hot beverage, flipping the news back on as he stretched out on the couch, still contemplating the situation with Anakin. If the Council was forced to intervene…

"Still up? I was sure you’d be asleep by now.”

Anakin flashed a grin as he stepped into the suite. Wondrous timing, Obi-Wan thought. He said nothing, watching silently as his apprentice approached the couch.

"Something wrong, Master?”

"Aside from you completely ignoring curfew?” Obi-Wan said, eyes following Anakin as he disappeared into the sleep chamber. Obi-Wan sipped his tea, no longer content with it.

A minute or so passed as Anakin moved about the rest of the apartment unseen, running the sink and rummaging through the limited wardrobe of a Jedi before he returned to the sitting room wearing nothing but a pair of loosely hung pants. Obi-Wan watched, silently, as the younger man moved to pour some of the still warm tea.

"Where were you?” Obi-Wan asked.

"Out.”

"Doing what?”

"Enjoying myself. You should try it one day.”

"I’ll enjoy myself when I no longer have to deal with mouthy, disappearing Padawans.”

Anakin took a long sip from the clay cup nestled in both his hands, flashing a wicked grin as he set it down next to the teapot.

"Then it seems you won’t be enjoying yourself for a long while, Master.”

Obi-Wan exhaled, looking to the ceiling as he tried desperately to maintain his calm. Despite years of training, Anakin could still get a rise out of him.

"This isn’t a joke, Anakin.”

"That doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.”

"You have responsibilities, to me, to the Jedi, and certainly most importantly--to yourself.”

"Master, a little fun never hurt anyone, not even a Jedi,” Anakin said with a raised eyebrow.

Obi-Wan stared silently for a long moment, eyes locked with his young apprentice. He felt he could no longer read those eyes, and that fact made something in his chest ache.

"Anakin, do you want to be a Jedi?” he asked, voice low.

The younger man beetled his brow, and for a moment his eyes were as concerned and compassionate as those of the child Obi-Wan had met almost a decade earlier.

"Of course I do,” Anakin moved across the room and sat beside his Master, "I’m meant to be a Jedi.”

"You think so?” Obi-Wan challenged, still lying there despite Anakin joining him on the couch.

"Master, I know it with every fiber of my being…I-”

"Are you really, truly, willing to do what it takes? Because I am beginning to think that-”

”Master,” Anakin laid his hand on Obi-Wan’s knee, "I have given my life to the Jedi Order…to you so that I can be properly instructed…I will do anything if it helps me become a Jedi Knight.”

Obi-Wan let loose a heavy sigh, he grabbed the back of the couch and pulled himself upright, looking Anakin directly in the eyes.

"You shouldn’t view your lessons as a burden, albeit they are often challenging, but in the end, you’ll be a better person and a better Jedi for it. You should do what you’re told because it’s the right thing to do, not because it’s a means to get what you want.”

Anakin looked away, he pulled away and stood. He seemed to be withdrawing emotionally as well. Obi-Wan’s hand shot up, grabbing Anakin’s wrist. He pulled gently until the boy turned to face him again.

"Anakin?”

"Yes?”

"Have you been listening to me?” Obi-Wan asked, jaw tightening.

Anakin nodded slowly, glancing at the hand that grasped him. He did not pull away, but instead met his master’s gaze with clouded eyes and sat back down. A flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck.

"Anakin,” he prompted once more, hand slipping limply from his apprentice’s grasp. Anakin’s fingers traced his lower lip and then dragged slowly over his bearded chin. The touch was gentle and soft, and horribly intimate.

"Yes?” The response was delayed and no louder than a whisper. His hand rested momentarily on Obi-Wan’s chest before returning to his side.

Obi-Wan took in his apprentice: the flush creeping down his neck, the glassiness of his eyes, and the sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Have you been drinking?”

"Yes,” Anakin answered without hesitation, his breathing was heavy and audible, "but I’m not drunk, Master.”

Obi-Wan could tell this without resorting to use of the Force. And the fact that his padawan was not inebriated was unsettling to the very core of his being. That must have been why his pulse picked up the way it did, and he felt as if his stomach was turning inside out. He met Anakin’s gaze. The boy’s pupils were huge, eyes unblinking, and he seemed deeply focused. This wasn’t Obi-Wan’s body reacting to Anakin’s closeness, but entirely the opposite. These were Anakin’s feelings, and reactions being projected on him. And with this knowledge, it was easier to ignore the surges of desire.

Anakin blinked, leaning over him. Trapping him. He was still breathing raggedly, and a slight sheen of sweat had formed on his bare chest, but his face still bore an oddly vacant expression. Vacant, yet determined. He leaned in closer, and his lips melted into a wicked grin, combined with the glint in his eyes, his intent became clear.

Obi-Wan blinked, rendered immobile by his slow realization as the hand of his padawan came down on his shoulder, gentle but firm.

"Are you certain you’re not intoxicated?” he managed, but the sound of his voice did nothing to alter Anakin’s behavior.

"Positive,” he answered, tanned hand exerting slightly more pressure as he slowly applied his lips to those of his master. His touch was delicate and nonintrusive. Still in a state of confusion and shock, Obi-Wan was slow to break the kiss.

Anakin pulled away, looking pleased, and licked his pink lips.

"Anakin,” Obi-Wan said with a deep breath, "I’m not sure this is-”

"I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Anakin interrupted, breath pouring over the adjacent face, "that facial hair, is an extremely…extremely attractive look for you, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan could feel himself flush, and he groped for words and breath as he felt Anakin unfastening his belt.

"Wait--” he managed with a squeak before his lips were recaptured by Anakin’s. The kiss began as gentle as the previous but soon escalated into a voracious one-sided bombardment. Obi-Wan pressed his head as far back into the pillows as he could, flinching involuntarily as the heat of Anakin’s hand made it past the folds of his tunic to his stomach and chest. Anakin pulled back, placing a few small kisses on his lips, hand trailing up his side in a gentle caress. Anakin slowly kissed his way over his cheek, using a bit of tongue as he reached his earlobe. Obi-Wan gasped, pleasure undeniable. He cursed his body for responding so eagerly to such attentions, desperately reminding himself that his mind did not appreciate such behavior from his apprentice.

"What are you doing?” Obi-Wan exhaled, disappointed to feel the younger man shifting more of his weight on top of him.

Anakin didn’t answer, hand moving through his Master’s chin length hair before meeting him in another forced kiss. He slyly pried the older man’s lips apart, tongue slipping between to better taste his mingled pleasure and despair, and to soothe his tense reactions.

"Anakin,” Obi-Wan choked when the younger man finally pulled away. It was increasingly disturbing to realize he was physically smaller than the boy, and that he was not nearly as strong. "What’s gotten into you?”

Anakin laughed softly, the sound reminding Obi-Wan of a contented purr. "It’s hard to be around you all the time…” he began, hand sliding slowly over the other man’s chest in a painfully intimate fashion. He curled it to cup his neck, fingers creeping into his hair, before going limp once more and dragging lazily over the man’s exposed chest. "…And to never act on how I feel.”

Obi-Wan blinked vacantly, almost laughing out loud. He half expected his apprentice to pull back grinning and apologize for the cruel joke.

"How you feel?” he managed.

Anakin nodded, an intense amount of energy flowing from him as he met the Obi-Wan’s gaze. He leaned over him, lips meeting quickly before he dragged them over his jaw and down over his chest. One hand gripped his shoulder tightly as the other moved over his muscled stomach to touch the fabric of his pants. Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t help but shut his eyes as he felt deft fingers trace his hip bone and slide down his thigh. A low groan emerged from his throat, and he realized he was half hard.

Anakin nuzzled against his neck, exhaling as he whispered in husky tones, "I want you. I ache being so close to you,” his lips closed over Obi-Wan’s earlobe and teased it with his tongue. "Sleeping often in the same bed, changing with no concern of wandering eyes…we’ve even bathed together on occasion.”

Obi-Wan stared into Anakin’s eyes, suddenly feeling very perverse about activities that had been forced by circumstance. He cleared his throat, flushing deeply.

"Listen, Ani-”

"Please, Master. Don’t call me that,” the boy’s lust clouded eyes seemed to clear a bit, and his lips turned to a frown. "don’t address me as you would a child.”

"I didn’t mean-” the apology was cut short as his voice caught in his throat, surprised to feel a hand kneading his inner thigh.

"Could a child make you feel like this?” Anakin asked, a note of triumph in his voice as he leaned in for another kiss. This time his tongue was met with a slight response, mirroring his laborious motions. Obi-Wan groaned into the younger man’s mouth, hating that he loved the feeling of their flesh pressed together and writhing under the hand that stroked his erection into fullness.

Anakin nuzzled his neck with delight, grinding his hips downward as his mouth traveled lower to lavish his clavicle. He paused momentarily at his Master’s next noise of pleasure, then moved on to lavish his nipples.

"…I need this,” he said softly.

Obi-Wan stared a long moment, struggling to find his bearings in the rushes of pleasure and disregard, "This…is insanely inappropriate.”

"I know,” the younger man purred, starting to breathe heavily at the continued contact of their arousals.

"…I’m almost sixteen years your senior…” The older Jedi managed in a split second of clear-headedness.

Anakin kissed and licked past his navel, tongue slipping easily past the waistline of his pants, guessing the pleasured groan that ensued was an attempted protest. He brought a hand to move over the other man’s waist, resting there briefly before proceeding to work his pants over his hip.

Obi-Wan felt his whole body grow tense as he became naked down to the knees, he shuddered and bucked as he felt his padawan’s mouth on his inner thigh, subconsciously noting that even if the exchange halted now, things would still be forever awkward between them. Anakin must have picked up on this too, looking up to meet his Master’s gaze.

"When was the last time…that you were touched this way?”

Even the suggestion tore a groan from the other Jedi’s lips, "Please, Anakin…”

The padawan frowned, "Stop?”

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, then exhaled very slowly, "…Don’t…no.”

Anakin hesitated a long moment, making sure he understood the breathless response before he slowly lowered his mouth back to the bare flesh of Obi-Wan’s thigh. He slowly traced a figure eight and sucked the flesh, that had never had such attentions, into pinkness.

Obi-Wan’s breath became shallow, and he gripped the couch with both hands, "Force…what are you trying to do to me?” he gasped, annoyance plain but mostly masked by pleasure.

"Drive you mad,” Anakin said, applying his lips to the opposite thigh, tongue trailing almost all the way to the juncture with his body, then slowly licking in the other direction.

"You’ve succeeded at that,” he managed with a grunt, "I assure you.”

"You seem able to handle it.”

Anakin’s hands settled firmly on his hips. Obi-Wan wriggled experimentally, unable to budge under the younger man’s weight. Breath poured over his cock followed by a trail of kisses and licks down its length.

“Please,” he tried desperately to get himself closer to Anakin’s mouth.

Anakin’s lips pulled into a smug smile, and then he brushed those lips over the head of Obi-Wan’s cock. The teasing lips were replaced first by a slow circling tongue, and then by a wet, eager mouth. Obi-Wan’s hips surged upward again, unrestrained, pushing deeper into Anakin’s mouth, which vibrated around him with a moan.

Anakin’s Force presence bled into his, whether because of their intimacy or by Anakin’s design was unclear, unimportant. Obi-Wan could feel the other’s desire, his drive to please, and the spike of excitement at Obi-Wan’s every pleasured groan. It was like an echo chamber, an erotic feedback loop. It was maddening.

Obi-Wan reached for Anakin, fingers running through his short hair. Anakin paused his attentions, perhaps misconstruing the touch as a direction. Obi-Wan whimpered at the loss of momentum and lifted his hips in encouragement. Anakin hummed around him, the hot wet vibration dragging a groan from him. It was too good. Too much.

Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s presence brushing his, searching, and then he provided a gentle suggestion. Calm.

"Underestimating me?” Obi-Wan managed, momentarily able to focus.

Anakin pulled off of him, replacing his mouth with an unhurried stroking. "I’m not ready for this to be over.”

He met Anakin’s eyes, and the unadulterated desire he found there was enough to finish him, moan forming in the back of his throat, back arching as he struggled to control his responses. "Don’t stop,” he amended quickly. He was the one who had underestimated.

The hot, greedy suction returned to his cock, falling into a delicious rhythm that was punctuated with firm strokes. Obi-Wan writhed beneath his touch, mouth opened in a silent moan. It felt like Anakin intended to swallow him whole, and just as he was certain he couldn’t take anymore he felt Anakin grasping his balls. The world shattered around him.

Obi-Wan inhaled raggedly at the feeling of Anakin swallowing his release, suckling and stroking until nothing else came. When he opened his eyes he found Anakin watching him, satisfied smile at his lips. Anakin traced patterns up his stomach and chest, lightly tweaked his right nipple and crawled back on top of him. Anakin’s lips met his hungrily, tasting of his orgasm.

Anakin’s unrelieved arousal pressed against him, and the pressure against his mouth lessened until the kiss was soft and delicate. Anakin moved to suck and nibble his earlobe, kissing his way back down his jaw. He was completely out of breath.

"You alright?”

Obi-Wan blinked, trying to grasp what had just transpired, and trying desperately to ignore the feel of Anakin’s erection digging into his thigh. The sensation made his head swim, and he wondered how he had held out so long.

"Master?” Anakin touched his cheek lightly, hand sliding down his neck and resting on his shoulder. He could sense Anakin’s feelings, he was having trouble keeping his thoughts off of the building heat between his legs. He swallowed noisily.

Anakin hesitated a moment before letting loose with another barrage of kisses, hand plunging between them to take hold of his own erection. His kisses became sloppy, frantic attempt to relieve himself.

"Anakin,” Obi-Wan swallowed, throat tight. He had to get out of here, he needed to be anywhere other than here, pinned under his Padawan.

"Anakin,” he repeated, now managing to control what was conveyed in his voice. He took the younger man by the shoulder, meeting his gaze.

"Master?” Anakin stilled, confusion clear.

"Please.”

Anakin blinked, watching the other man a long moment.

"Master?” he asked once more, not liking what he could sense.

"Would you let me up, please?”

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan was quiet as he stood in the thicket of alien shrubbery. He was at the edge of the small clearing that served as their campsite, peering into the trees at the patch of cleared soil where they’d set up a makeshift shower.

He hadn’t intended to watch his master bathe, felt foul and voyeuristic about it, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Qui-Gon’s naked form. He adored his master’s broad shoulders and chest, his long gray sprinkled hair, and the fact that he had to look up to met his gaze. He felt sick and guilty that he stood there now, painfully aroused by the older man.

He blinked, attention returning to the shower area to find the water had been stopped and Qui-Gon, nor his towel, still occupied the half stall.

"Padawan?”

Obi-Wan tensed and turned reluctantly, unable to meet his Master’s gaze.

"Master, I didn’t mean to-”

"Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Qui-Gon interrupted, offering an understanding nod. No anger. No judgement.

Obi-Wan balked at that, not sure how to respond to such a remark.

"No,” he finally managed, "I shouldn’t have been watching.” He had intended a proper apology, but now it didn’t look as if he’d get to one.

Qui-Gon simply shrugged, hanging the towel over a level branch and finding his brush. Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say more, but found himself more than distracted by the older man’s movements as he ran the brush through his hair. How he loved that hair. He watched as Qui-Gon turned, pulling the damp strands over the opposite shoulder so that he could return the stare. Obi-Wan swallowed hard trying desperately to ignore the fact that the other man was semi-erect.

"That attempted apology,” he began, waiting a moment for the younger man to meet his gaze, "might have been more effective if you’d stopped looking afterward.”

Obi-Wan felt his face and neck grow hot and turned away from his master.

"Sorry,” he amended quickly, but found he was unable to move.

He didn’t know how long he’d stood there, but he did know that his next conscious thought was that there was a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan turned, looking up to examine the older man’s expression.

"Padawan,” he said softly, finger underneath Obi-Wan’s chin so he could be positive their eyes met. Obi-Wan sighed, feeling this would be one of his twisted lessons. The ones received at the most inopportune times, with the slightest of knowledge to gain. And he was annoyed that he really had no power to resist any lesson that included Qui-Gon in the nude.

"Obi-Wan,”

Obi-Wan could no longer resist looking, melting at how his name sounded from those lips and the warmth of Qui-Gon’s hand against his chin.

"Yes…Master?” he finally managed.

"It’s natural to feel the way you do,” the older man said, touching Obi-Wan’s cheek lightly, "but you’ve got to be more disciplined. You’re not usually so susceptible to your hormones.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, he could feel the threat of tears, but did not look away from his master’s gray eyes.

"Well circumstances are a bit different at the moment,” he said finally.

"Indeed,” Qui-Gon agreed. He moved a thumb over Obi-Wan’s cheek, before taking his learner’s braid between thumb and index finger. "But, it is a trial of the Jedi.”

Obi-Wan frowned deeply, aware of a growing tightness in his jaw and neck. The fact that his Master could say that with a straight face made him nauseous. "Everything is a trial,” he spat.

Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. He let it slide over his half-bared chest, and didn’t stop it before it came upon the erection straining inside his sleep pants.

Obi-Wan hissed as he inhaled, feeling vulnerable and betrayed, only slightly relieved when the large hand left him.

"As you say, Padawan, everything is a trial.” He took one of the boy’s hands in his.

Obi-Wan writhed, trying to free himself from his Master’s grasp.

"Please, Master. I…I only wanted-”

"What? Only wanted to throw yourself at me?” Qui-Gon asked, suddenly holding him by both wrists.

Obi-Wan’s eyes stung as he continued his protest, "No, Master. I didn’t intend to-”

Qui-Gon interrupted him with a hand over his mouth, leaning forward to brush his nose over the younger man’s, then he moved his hand, doing the same with his lips. He could see Obi-Wan shudder with pleasure, and tried not to smile as he nipped his lower lip before descending into a plain, slight kiss.

Obi-Wan whimpered desperately, making to lean forward and gain more contact with his Master. Qui-Gon did smile this time, pulling away slightly. He slid his fingers over the boy’s jaw bone, thumb ghosting over the lips that parted at his touch.

“Master?”

Qui-Gon shushed him with his thumb, moved his hand out of the way, and initiated a heated and forceful kiss. His tongue met little resistance as it slid into the other mouth. Obi-Wan melted beneath him, taking hold of both his large arms as he struggled to stay standing. He shuddered at the caress of Qui-Gon’s tongue. Please, Master, don’t…

Qui-Gon withdrew, hand moving over Obi-Wan’s stomach and chest, easily finding his left nipple and pinching it.

“Don’t what, Padawan?” he asked finally, pushing the learner’s braid out of the way and leaning to kiss along the young neck.

“This,” Obi-Wan managed as he felt more than lips along the hollow of his neck.

“What might this be?” Qui-Gon responded coolly, continuing to dole out the actions of the boy’s most heated dreams.

Obi-Wan was growing frustrated and didn’t know where he found the power to shout, “Stop this. Let me go.”

What surprised him more than the man pulling away was that he did so without argument.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan awoke soaked in sweat, his cheeks stung with tears, and through the clinging sheets he could see he was fully aroused. He cursed silently, throwing the sheet off of himself and getting to his feet. He was appropriately upset by the dream, it was a skewed perversion of the truth. And it made him want to vomit.

Guilt gnawed at his insides for thinking of his lost Master in such a way. In such a half truth that made him want to cry of shame and made him sick with longing all at once. He had no doubt that the nightmare had been partially induced by his and Anakin’s earlier encounter.

Obi-Wan’s palms itched as he stood facing the large mirror, fighting the urge to relieve himself as he repaired the memory within his mind.

He had indeed spied his Master bathing, sick with guilt and hard with lust and something more… This memory alone brought a groan to his throat. Qui-Gon had indeed caught him in the act, shrugging it off easily proceeding to brush through his mane without putting on a stitch. Obi-Wan had viewed this as an apt and maddening punishment.

Obi-Wan groaned once more recalling the gentle look in the other man’s eyes as he had reprimanded him lightly, and voiced his understanding. He understood, and that’s why he hadn’t tried to stop his young apprentice from kissing him. He’d allowed the desperate move to come to fruition and then apologized, disappearing to dress.

Obi-Wan had to concentrate immensely to relax. The memory wrought his insides, and not only because his Master was with the Force. He exhaled slowly, tightly shut eyes finally drifting opened.

He glanced absently at his reflection, extending a hand to rest on the wall beside it. He blinked once more at the reflection that seemed so alien before letting his heavy lids fall, his other hand sliding along the bulge in his night clothes. He had no choice now, the melancholy hitting him was completely unwelcome and his need for a distraction was immense.

His lips parted silently as he ghosted his fingers over his rigid member, amused and annoyed that it felt like something he’d never done before. He pushed his thumb over the head of his cock, massaging it and pulling experimentally at the slit. He fumbled until his body remembered what he liked.

He choked on a strangled gasp, not thinking about the fact that his Apprentice slept in the adjacent room and there wasn’t even a door to separate them.

Once he got past the tentative rediscovery of himself he didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around the hard flesh, pushing and pulling and pumping with his fist, not fighting the urge to thrust his hips forward.

He ground out another moan, breath catching as he thought he imagined hot breath against his neck. He dismissed the thought easily, concentrating on his still far off orgasm. While frustrated, he wasn’t especially bothered by this, knowing it would only help him get back to sleep.

“Master,”

Obi-Wan grew tense, barely glancing at the mirror where he saw Anakin’s form standing behind his. He shut his eyes once more. He knew this wasn’t a dream, but couldn’t bring himself to care. His emotions were spiraling uncharacteristically, taking him by the throat and holding him hostage. If he came he’d lose himself to the euphoria, he would relax and be able to think. And sleep. And then he’d have the ability to focus on meditating.

“What do you want?” he demanded, voice husky and preoccupation clear.

Anakin opened his mouth, voice lost, unable to look away.

Obi-Wan laughed inwardly, annoyed that when the younger man’s hands slid along his sides he wondered what had taken him so long. Anakin brought his mouth to his Master’s neck, kissing and tonguing until he moved the curve of his neck.

Obi-Wan shuddered at the feel of Anakin’s mouth on him, body tensing infinitely more as he felt the other man’s body pressing flush against his, and his hands snaking around to his front to help him along.

Anakin nipped the flesh of his neck, pleased to feel the other man bucking into his grasp.

“Yes,” he purred, nuzzling his neck still as he started to grind his hips against the other man’s backside.

Obi-Wan moaned, feeling Anakin’s rock hard arousal pressed against his ass. He vocalized his frustration, trying to find a balance between the teasing sensations on either side of his body. But before he could become too upset over this fact he felt the other body pulling away from his. Anakin turned him around, backing him against the mirror as he initiated a ravenous kiss.

Obi-Wan could feel through the Force how much Anakin wanted to kiss, and writhe against him, but was far past that point himself and didn’t quite care what his apprentice’s needs were at this point. He slid his hands up onto Anakin’s shoulders, breaking the kiss as he applied a slight downward pressure.

Anakin opened his eyes, looking a bit hurt, but complied readily. He dropped to his knees easily, touching his master’s stomach and thighs briefly before all his attention shifted to the rigid arousal before him.

Obi-Wan groaned out loud feeling Anakin’s hands on him, one stroking at an even relaxed pace and the other cradling his balls. He was beginning to feel lightheaded at the sensation of the young man’s mouth taking him in completely, sucking and bobbing intently as he managed to keep stroking. Obi-Wan welcomed the sensations readily, thinking of his Master’s gorgeous, naked body as he brushed through his lengthy hair. Just as he had appeared in the erotic nightmare, the same sight he’d witnessed years ago, at an age not much older than Anakin’s.

There was also a slight nagging in the back of his mind, it alternated steadily with the inability to concentrate on anything but Anakin’s hot mouth and his cock. He wondered, barely, of his master’s past interactions with other Jedi. More specifically wondered how many had turned out like this. Many of the female masters were fond of him to a point beyond friendship and camaraderie. All of them gorgeous like Adi Gallia and Shaak Ti.

Anakin seemed to sense his distraction, and pulled back to suck deftly at Obi-Wan’s very tip. He hissed with delight, no longer wasting energy on thinking, and wound his fingers through Anakin’s short-cropped hair. He thrust into him in a manner that made it clear that he didn’t intend to wait for release. Anakin whimpered deliciously around him.

Obi-Wan could feel himself teetering on the edge, moving wildly as he felt Anakin’s hands creep around to his backside. The hands grabbing at his ass felt good, but what pushed him over the edge was the finger that found its way to press against his opening.

He groaned throatily, impressed by the ease with which Anakin accepted his orgasm. After feeling the last twitch of his cock, he opened his eyes to see the younger man licking his lips. He watched a long moment, considering the idea of running his foot along the other’s erection, positive it wouldn’t take much more than that.

“Master,” Anakin managed, not able to hold the other man’s gaze for very long.

Obi-Wan blinked, feeling the euphoria begin to clear, revealing the sheer exhaustion he’d been aware of all along. He met Anakin’s eyes briefly, making sure he understood that he’d just been used. He didn’t exactly regret it, just wanted to make sure there was no confusion on the subject.

He glanced once more at the bulge in Anakin’s pants, then turned away with a yawn. “Goodnight my Padawan.”

 

* * *

 

Anakin awoke in the early morning, thighs still sticky from the previous night’s hurried relief. His thoughts and emotions were a buzz: frustration, hurt, and his hunger deeper now that he’d tasted the forbidden fruit.

He blinked, laying quietly on the couch, finding his foremost thoughts were about Obi-Wan; worry for Obi-Wan. He’d been so out of sorts, seemed entirely unlike himself only a few hours before.

Not wanting to sit and dwell, and not sure he could go much longer without checking on his master’s well being, Anakin got to his feet. He stretched quickly, throwing his blanket into a heap at the end of the couch before heading towards the bedroom.

He peered in tentatively, surprised to see the bed made and the holoproj switched on but muted. He turned toward the bathroom, seeing the door opened and hearing the sink running at a light drizzle. He stepped up to the doorway, a bit surprised to find Obi-Wan standing at the sink with a lathered face and a straight edged razor in hand.

“Anakin,” he said quietly with a slight nod before he began shaving.

Anakin wrinkled his brow, deeply annoyed that the other man meant to deny him so blatantly.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“We need to talk, I think.” Anakin hoped he projected more confidence than he felt.

“Indeed,” Obi-Wan agreed, rinsing the blade before continuing cautiously with his task. Anakin frowned, stepping into the bathroom. The tile was cold on his feet and he watched silently as the other man took his time shaving.

Obi-Wan glanced at the younger man’s reflection, feeling sick, frightened and a bit aroused.

“Well?” Anakin demanded, noting that the other man didn’t turn from the mirror.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “We should meditate on this.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Anakin took a step closer, taking Obi-Wan by the shoulder and coaxing him to turn round.

“Of course not,” he blustered, irritated to find himself backed up against the sink. “I’m just not certain where to begin.”

Anakin blinked, anger too apparent in his eyes.

“How about with how you feel about all of this,” He finally said, working hard to unclench his jaw.

“It was a mistake,” Obi-Wan said simply, calling on all the strength he had not to think of how good everything had felt.

“I see. So your body lies to you then?” The young man frowned, fighting the urges to reach out and feel the other man.

“I tend to listen to my mind, not my body,” Obi-Wan said, clearing his throat as he tried to press himself thinner against the sink.

Anakin eyed him a long moment, frustration at his master and his own desires swirling as he fought to control his reactions. He took a step back, no longer trapping the other Jedi so close to him.

“I see,” he said finally, breathing deeply as he fought for calm, “I’ll remember that, Master.”

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted this story on AFF in 2005, under the name StrictMachine. I decided to clean it up and repost it here, which was an undertaking.
> 
> Thank you so much to ashes0909 for beta reading, cheering me on through edits, and kicking my ass as needed!


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